


Where are the Drag Queens?

by ipushedher



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, bicycles were harmed in the making of this story, mostly college though, slight coffee shop au, the language is salty too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 12:03:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4059313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ipushedher/pseuds/ipushedher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"His coffee almost made it to, if not for the bicyclist who came out of nowhere and startled Steve. The scalding hot drink was spilled over the crotch of his jeans and the man on the bike didn’t even stop to see what the distressed shout was about."</p><p>Steve loves cheap coffee and ends up dropping it for a month when a bicyclist surprises him on the street. Bucky takes the brunt of Steve's frustrations about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where are the Drag Queens?

**Author's Note:**

> I started this story back in....god I think March? I was walking back to my car from the coffee shop, Five15, and I saw a man in a Captain America body suit riding a bike with the toy shield attached to the handle bars. I spent the rest of the day thinking of ways to make it into a story.  
> 1\. Yes Five15 is a real place and it does hold Drag Queen Bingo. No, I don't think a Sam actually works there.  
> 2\. My college campus is down the street from the coffee shop which does sell cheap coffee.  
> 3\. yes there are actually funny condom boxes lining the counter top and the tip jar does say that. They also sell books, t-shirts, flasks, calendars, and other stuff. I love it there.
> 
> Just let me know how much I fucked up. It's late and I didn't read it over much. I feel like I finished it cheaply, but I needed to finish it.

School, in the middle of a hipsters’ paradise; at least that was how Steve viewed it. His tiny community college campus was situated at the southern end of the “Downtown” area of the city, but was bordered on both sides with tall buildings that had shops on the ground floor and apartments on top of those shops. Most of the shops were either alternative restaurant that catered to the vegetarian lifestyle or bohemian boutiques with overpriced clothing that poor college students, like Steve, could never afford unless they didn’t eat for a month. The area was very popular and there were always pedestrians walking around, whether at 9 am on Tuesday morning or 9 pm Friday evening. 

Steve liked to walk around the town after his morning class, not being able to drive home for the three hour wait until work started. His school, Leigh Community College, was tiny, a student body of 1,500 some and a faculty of 50. It was good enough for general education requirements and the introduction to Art classes he needed to take for his degree. Everyone assumed when the blond man said art that he was drawing or painting, maybe even tattooing from the way he dressed, but his true love was pottery and ceramics. 

Steve was small, height and weight wise, standing at five feet and three inches and carrying an even 110 pounds on him, when he wore his heavy leather logger boots. His hair was cut short and blond, his blue eyes were spaced just so on his face, and Steve kept a bit of stubble on his face that was darker than his hair. On days he didn’t feel lazy, the potter would don shabby blue jeans that had threadbare spots around the knees and a holey long sleeve shirt under a Carhartt sweatshirt. Even if he was short and skinny, the man had a ruggedness about him that was standoffish. 

He preferred cheap coffee and ate a bagel from the school cafeteria every day for breakfast. However, he couldn’t get cheap coffee from the school cafeteria, so instead he made his way to Five15, a gay coffee shop that held Drag queen BINGO every weekend. For two dollars and some change, he could get a large Café Americano, and he got a laugh from the comedic condom boxes lining the counter. It didn’t hurt that was guy serving the coffee, 

Sam, was a good looking fellow in a Henley and skinny jeans. 

“When’re you finally come by for BINGO man? The ladies want to meet you,” Sam prompted one morning after coming to the coffee shop for a month straight.

“When I have the money for it; you know those reservations cost and the food does too…And what do you mean they want to meet me,” Steve replied in an alarmed tone.

“It’s hard not to talk about the hobo who keeps coming in for coffee, at least that’s what Clint keeps calling you. I’m sure you can clean up nicely,” the barista joked.

“Haha, I’ll have you know that I just don’t give a shit. It’s not like I’m in the market for a date,” the small man taunted. With a smirk, Steve put a dollar in the tip jar, labeled laughingly with, “Just put the tip in, see how it feels,” and went on his way back to school for his Life drawing class.

His coffee almost made it to, if not for the bicyclist who came out of nowhere and startled Steve. The scalding hot drink was spilled over the crotch of his jeans and the man on the bike didn’t even stop to see what the distressed shout was about.

“FUCK YOU FUCKFACE JESUS FUCKING HELL! OH FUCK CHILDREN,” Steve screamed after the man and belatedly noticed he was across the street from a nursery school that was just starting their day. 

Taking the disdainful glares in stride, Steve cupped his crotch and went back into the coffee shop for napkins and a bag of ice.

“What the hell man, I heard you screaming,” Sam insisted, coming around the counter to help Steve into a seat. 

“Some asshole on a bike came blazing past me without giving me a warning. I got startled and spilled my drink…sorry you had to hear that.”

“Did you get a look at the guy? What color’s his bike?”

“Shit man, I can’t even remember right now. Fuck this burns,” Steve whimpered, getting most of the hot coffee out of his pants and holding the bag of ice in its place. 

“Take your time man, I gotta get back to work,” the barista said, patting his friend on the shoulder and returning to the counter to start drinks for the few customers that had come in while the blond was mopping up his crotch. Satisfied that he wasn’t going to have to go to the hospital for penis burns, Steve threw away the ice, now water, and left the coffee shop and headed to class late.

A week went by until it was again Tuesday, at 9 am, and Steve was just leaving Five15 with his coffee when bicycle-ass flew down the sidewalk and this time Steve fell over on the man’s way past. And once again the coffee did not survive. As the man rode away, the blond fumed quietly because the teachers across the street were side-eyeing him and thankfully the hot liquid only coated his shoes. The bike was red with silver detailing and the rider wore a black helmet and a red riding jacket.

Steve checked the bike racks on his way into the school’s lobby and noted that the red bike was amongst them.

On Wednesday, Steve told Sam all about Mr. Red Riding Jacket.

“Are you seriously calling him that? That is so lame,” Sam inquired curiously.

“Yeah, I am. It’s nicer than Bike Asshole and the people at that daycare keep giving me the side-eye whenever I pass by.”

The next Tuesday at 9 am, Steve kept an eye over his shoulder for the bicyclist, and missed the man coming up from the front this time. Three coffee casualties in as many weeks, and the blond ended up in a bank of snow.

“I swear to god, stop it,” he screamed after the man.

Week four came without ceremony and Steve had an idea. He took an airtight hot drink thermos to the coffee shop and had Sam pour his large coffee into it. Taking care to secure the lid before leaving the shop, Steve headed down the street to school and kept an eye in front and in back for the bicyclist. It happened this time at the crosswalk when the art student had to wait for the signal to change.

The bicyclist flew past Steve just as the signal changed and Steve tripped over his clunky boots, landing on the front end of a vehicle that had rolled to a stop halfway in the crosswalk. Once gathering himself back up and keeping a hand on his thermos, the student took off after the bike. He just missed the man going into the school, but he had left his bike locked up on the bike rack.

With a devilish grin, Steve took out his exacto knife and punctured the tires of the bike in a fit of justifiable rage. He was done before the police made their hourly patrol of the campus grounds and went to class feeling a bit better about himself.

“Hey Steve, you look happy today,” Bucky, a classmate and Steve’s stupid crush, jibbed as the blond man came into the class.

“I feel good today. My coffee survived the walk here.”

“I can see that, mind sharing? I just finished mine and I don’t feel like paying three dollars for a refill.”

Steve took the cap off of his thermos and handed it to the brunet man to pour in his Starbucks coffee cup. He took a seat next to the man, pulling out his art supplies to set up for class when Steve spotted the one item of clothing he never thought Bucky would own: a red riding jacket.

“Oh you asshat! What the hell man!?” Steve was seething at Bucky and pointing at the coat.

“Wait what? What?”

“You asshole, you’ve been making me spill my coffee for a fucking month now, what the hell; You and your stupid red bike!”

Bucky blinked and gaped at Steve for a moment, before saying, calmly as possible, “My bike is black.”

And oh god did Steve feel stupid for a moment. His head made contact with the desk in front of him and he groaned. Steve could feel his ears burning and feel the eyes of half of the class on him now. 

“I’m sorry…shit, I’m sorry, Bucky-“ 

His friend just clapped him on the back and said, “Nah, it’s all good, buddy. I think I know who it was, if they’ve got a red jacket and bike. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

Steve lifted his head and looked his friend in the eye, saying, “’cuz I wanted to find the guy myself and kick his face in. I did one better though.”

The brunet lifted an eyebrow at the implication and racked his mind trying to figure out what Steve did. Before the blond man could divulge what he had done to the bicyclist who kept spilling his coffee, the professor cleared her throat and class was officially underway. Steve kept feeling his friend’s eyes on the back of his neck as they started their projects, splitting up to work. 

“Remember that class is cancelled next Tuesday. Take the time to work on your projects since they’ll be due the following week. See you all next Thursday,” the teacher announced, dismissing her class. Steve waited for Bucky out of the way of other students and together walked to the cafeteria. 

“Tell me whatcha did then,” the taller man prompted, dropping his things at an empty table and pulled out his wallet.

“It brings my assholery to a new level, but I slashed his tires. I was so pissed at him that I wasn’t thinking straight. Should I go turn myself in to the campus police? Oh god Bucky, I slashed a guy’s tires because he spilled coffee on me,” Steve reported, starting to feel bad for the actions he took against the bike. It wasn’t like the bike was at fault; it was the guy who rode it. His friend was doing a terrible job at keeping a straight and stern face, the laughter was bubbling up quickly. 

“Don’t laugh; you’re only making me feel worse!”

“Shit Steve that is amazing! My vindictive little minx feels regret! Oh god, I love you, dude,” Bucky gasped and walked around the table, still laughing, and pulled the blond man into a hug. The man buried his face in Steve’s neck and continued chuckling until the smaller man thumped him on the chest.

“You are such an ass, Bucky!”

“But I’m your ass, Stevie. Let me give you a kiss to make it all better.”

It was shit like this that made it difficult for Steve to get over his crush on Bucky. The artist stayed silent until his friend released him, ears and cheeks again red. When the other student noticed, the humor he felt melted away and concern was in its place.

“Hey now, what’s the matter?”

“Can we just get lunch? I don’t want to talk about it.”

Seeing the miniature lumberjack shutting down, the bicyclist pulled his friend back down into the seats of the table and pushed in close. 

“Can we please talk about it? It happens every time I say I love you. Does that bother you?”

Steve remained quiet for a moment, wishing he could just disappear. Instead he settled for being brutally honest with Bucky.

“Yeah it does, only because you say it so flippantly. I’m in love with you and it hurts when you say things like that,” he confessed, dropping his gaze to his lap and tensed up. He just had to wait for the backlash. Bucky sat back in his seat, shocked by his best friend’s confession. This wasn’t what he was expecting to hear, but what he did expect didn’t fit Steve’s character. The words clogged up his throat, knowing what he wanted to say, but unable to say it without choking up. Steve loved him, god, it was wonderful!

Steve wasn’t taking his friend’s silence the right way. How could he when he was already expecting the worst from his confession. He made to get up from the seat, taking his bag with him, when Bucky sprang into action and pulled Steve into his lap.

“Please don’t leave Steve. I don’t want you to leave, just let me…just wait,” Bucky said, soothing Steve against his chest. The smaller man gave up his struggle after a moment, letting himself sink into his crush’s lap.

“I love you too, Steve. I never meant to make you feel like I was being…dismissive. I thought if I said it enough, I…I just wanted you. I thought we could just fall into dating if I said it enough,” Bucky murmured in the blonde’s ear.

“You’re fucking stupid. Fall into dating? Why not just ask me out?”

“By that logic, why didn’t you just ask me out then?”

Bucky and Steve locked eyes, staring contest ensuing, wondering who would give in first and offer up the details of a date first.

“Fine, I’ll take you for coffee tomorrow. Where’s your usual place,” the taller student conceded, running a hand down Steve’s arm and taking his hand in his own.

“I’d like that,” the other man replied, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s cheek, “just don’t bring your bike.”


End file.
